


Every Frivolous Whim

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: MMOM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a camping trip, Jim feels the need for a little solitude.<br/>Sequel to Beat the Clock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Frivolous Whim

May 8, 1997. An answer to the "Merry Month of Masturbation" challenge. 

(Standard, all-purpose disclaimer) All pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers of "The Sentinel." No copyright infringement is intended. All new characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of the author. 

Rated R for m/m content. 

## Every Frivolous Whim

by Katrina Bowen

Prologue

> __  
> Once Blair had a chance to explode,  
>  He and Jim finally got on the road.  
> But as they put up their tents,  
> Jim picked up some scents...  
> So let's all watch the story unfold.  
> 

  


Jim looked away from the stream of early-morning traffic long enough to glance down at Blair's tapping foot. They were about ten miles away from the loft, and that foot had been in motion for the last eight; furthermore, Sandburg hadn't said a single word yet, not even to complain about being yanked out of his nice warm bed. "Something bothering you, Chief?" 

Blair shook his head, but kept his eyes focused on the passing scenery. His foot kept up its rhythm. "Nah. I'm fine. Just thinking." 

"Thinking." Jim kept most of his attention on the highway, but he watched the younger man out of the corner of his eye. "Thinking about what?" 

"Nothing much. Our research. The station. Taggart. You know, things like that." 

Jim raised his eyebrows. "Why are you thinking about Joel Taggart?" 

Blair's foot stopped, but he didn't turn away from the window. "I can think about Joel if I want, Jim. I can think about *anyone* I damn well please." 

"Fine, fine." Signalling for a lane change, Jim pulled off onto the exit that would take them to their campground. "You just sit there and... think about Taggart." 

"Jim...." Blair took a deep breath. Pushing his still-damp hair behind his ears, he finally turned to face Jim. "Sorry. Guess I sorta... got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." 

"You barely managed to get up at all, Sandburg." But Jim smiled as he said it. "Too much studying last night? Usually when we go camping, you're the first one up." 

Blair managed a small grin in return. "Yeah, I guess that was it. Too much studying." 

"You ought to take a break once in a while. Get your mind on something else." Blair started to say something, but Jim cut him off. "I know you want to get your dissertation done, but you've got to take a chance to relax. Look, let's just put the sentinel tests on hold this weekend." 

"Jim, I'm not sure if that's such a good idea --" 

"Forget it, Darwin. Blessed Protector has decided." Reaching across, Jim patted Blair on the leg. "This camping trip is just for fun, all right?" 

Blair stared down at the hand on his thigh. "Fun. Great. Well, Jim, I guess I'd better rest up for all that fun. I'm gonna try to grab a quick nap, okay?" 

"Yeah." Jim put his hand back on the steering wheel as Blair turned back to the window. "I'll wake you up when we get there, okay?" Blair just grunted in reply, and Jim grinned. Yeah, the kid definitely needed a little recreation. A couple days out in the woods, and he'd be back to his old self in no time.   
  


* * *

Jim glowered up at the sky, then at Blair, then back at the sky -- or, to be more specific, at the line of clouds advancing from the west. "Where the hell did *those* come from?" 

"Hmmm?" Glancing briefly over his shoulder, Blair went back to adjusting the flaps on the tent. "You mean what direction, or the meteorological conditions, or what?" 

"Very funny. I thought you said it was supposed to be clear this weekend." 

"Hey, all I know is what they say on the radio. I'm too young to watch the Weather Channel." 

With a final look at the sky, Jim crossed over to the truck to get the rest of their gear. "Well, this might cut down on the chances for enjoying ourselves, Chief." 

Blair grinned up at him. "What, you're not looking forward to another long hike in the rain? You're getting soft on me, you know that?" 

Jim didn't answer, but as he brought over the sleeping bags he reflected that Blair's mood had improved dramatically since they'd gotten to the campsite. **Probably just needed to get out of the city. Away from all the girls chasing after him. Hell, away from all the guys chasing after him -- easy, Ellison. You decided the kid's life was the kid's business, remember?** 

When Blair glanced up to watch Jim come back to the tent, a thick lock of hair fell over his nose. He tried to push it away without releasing his hold of the nylon ties for the flaps, without any success. Jim grinned as he watched Blair raise his forearm again, and fail to move his hair again. "You should probably tie that back. If you're not careful, it'll get caught in the trees or something." 

Blair snorted. "Yeah, well, *someone* told me to get out of the bathroom before I got a chance to grab anything for my hair. If it's annoying you, you have no one to blame but yourself." 

"Nice try." Rummaging through his pockets, Jim came up with several of the leather strips Blair used on his hair and dangled one in front of Blair's nose. "Look familiar?" 

"You just happen to carry those around in your coat pocket?" Blair looked up at him skeptically through the veil of curls. 

"Well, I can either pick them up wherever I find one, or leave them lying on my desk, in the truck, in the kitchen --" 

Laughing, Blair said, "Okay, okay, point taken." He lifted one hand to take the leather tie; with a muffled curse, he grabbed at the tent again as the flaps started to pull apart. "Hey, man, you want to hold onto this for a sec?" 

"Sure." Jim knelt behind Blair and reached around him to take hold of the tent. He moved his head back slightly as Blair raised his arms to start scraping his hair away from his face, but he still got a whiff of the scent rising from the thick curls. What's more, Jim could almost imagine that he felt wispy tendrils of heat flowing out of them, dispersing the warmth they'd collected while resting against the back of Sandburg's neck. 

And now that neck was laid bare, pale and smooth and tapering down to the top of his spine, spreading out to shoulders that were broad enough to hint at the wiry strength in the other's body, but in no way out of proportion... **The kid's shoulders are also none of your business, Ellison,** Jim reminded himself. **And get your nose out of his hair before he notices.** 

Jim rocked back on his heels to put a little distance between himself and Blair. "Got it, Chief?" 

"Yeah --" Blair went back to working on the tent. "Okay, you can let go now, Jim." 

After a moment's concentration, Jim remembered how to work the muscles in his hands. "Right." Standing up, he looked down at the top of Blair's head, and he watched how deftly Blair's hands (small even for his size, but no less capable for all that) fastened the sides of the tent together. **Wonder how good he'd be at unfastening things...** With a slow, careful breath, Jim took a step backward. "Think you can handle things for a few minutes, Chief? I'm going to scout around, check out the territory...." 

"Yeah, sure." Blair nodded, but he didn't look up. "Watch yourself, huh? Don't go and accidentally step into a bear trap or something." 

Jim walked toward the line of trees nearby. Over his shoulder, he said, "You're talking to the wilderness survival expert, remember? If I step into a bear trap, it'll be on purpose." 

"Oh, *that's* reassuring...." 

Jim walked into the woods for about five minutes, until he came to the banks of a small stream: a distance he judged to be enough for privacy's sake, but not so much that he wouldn't hear Blair if he needed help or (god forbid) decided to go on a walk of his own. He focused his hearing back toward the camp site briefly; Blair was clattering something -- probably unpacking all the cooking gear -- and muttering under his breath about ... Taggart again? Jim sighed, half in relief, half in disappointment. Well, as long as Blair wasn't thinking about him. 

Sitting down on the ground, his back resting against a fallen tree, Jim leaned back and gazed out over the flowing water. He'd decided long ago not to worry about why he was attracted to Sandburg. Some things just *were*, and self-analysis had never been one of Jim Ellison's hobbies. **No, all I have to worry about is keeping my hands off him. Piece of cake. Stuck in a tent all weekend, sleeping next to him, feeling him, smelling him....** 

Looking down at his crotch in resignation, Jim unzipped his jeans and rose to his knees. Pulling his cock out of his underwear, he started stroking himself. He was already half-hard from being in such close proximity to Blair, and he let his mind wander back, imagined that rather than holding onto the tent, he had let go.... 

Jim slipped one arm around Blair's chest, and (seeing as how this was Jim's fantasy and he could call the shots for both of them) Blair eased back against Jim, easing their bodies together, molding his ass against Jim's crotch. (Jim took a deep breath and released his grip on his cock. He put his hands on his thighs and closed his eyes. **Self-control. Self-discipline. That's what this is about.**) Twisting one hand in Blair's long curls, he pulled the younger man's head back and held it firmly against his shoulder, at the same time slipping his free hand down Blair's baggy jeans, tugging gently on the (curly, straight, thick, sparse?) pubic hair before moving down and grasping Blair's cock.... 

Jim finally allowed himself to move his hands back to his crotch. Slick with pre-ejaculate. Warm. So warm, almost blazing hot, so hard it bordered on being painful, but the edge... the edge was almost right ... there. 

Shoulders sagging, Jim waited for his breathing to slow before he opened his eyes. Getting to his feet, he went over to the stream and efficiently cleaned himself off. Feeling around in his pockets for a handkerchief to dry himself off with, or a tissue, or anything, his fingers closed around the leather strips. Taking them out of his pocket, he looked at them expressionlessly; then, opening his hand slowly, he let them tumble into the water. When the current had carried them away, Jim pulled his clothes together and headed back for the camp site as the first raindrops began to fall.   
  
EPILOGUE   


> __  
> And now, I hear a chorus of, "Please!  
>  You can't leave them out in the trees!"  
> Never fear, o my friends --  
> I, too, hate dead ends.  
> Part three will end my May tease.  
> 

* * *

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